The Right to Rule
by Still Marauding
Summary: Freya is brought to Asgard in chains, her family torn apart. She swears revenge on her captors, sure of their brutal nature. But what she finds in Loki changes everything, though not necessarily for the better. Freya/Loki
1. Foreign Ground

_It began with blood. The blood of my father, and of my people. A long and bloody war ended with treachery and deception, a war that left the Vanir subjects of Asgard. My proud people were forced to kneel before their false king, to swear allegiance to a vengeful and cruel ruler. We were but a peaceful people, gifted with foresight and a gentle nature, and it was perhaps that nature that cost us the war._

_I was brought to this land in chains, borne upon a chariot for all to see my shame. My brother stood at my side, his head bowed in humble submission._

_My head will never bow. _

_I may have been brought to this land in these chains, they may let me live as their captured princess, in borrowed silks and sparkling jewels, but I will never lay compliant. I will leave this land the jailer and they will quake underneath my glare. _

_I will never be the pretty face they require, nor the marriage they see to solidify their claim to my land. I will never forget the blood they used to soak the earth, nor the sting of loss, nor the unspeakable horror as I watched Odin lift my father's severed head high for all to see. Or the cheers that followed from the residents of Asgard. I will not forget the sting of my shackles that prevented me from doing something, anything, that even as I strained they kept me from both the physical and magical retribution I sought. That I pushed anyway until my wrists broke under the force._

_For I am Valfreya, princess and rightful ruler of Vanaheim. _

I entered the hall still shackled. My actions had not gone unnoticed at the Triumph. Freyr walked next to me, free of his bonds. He was not a threat to them, nor truly to anyone. They had given him a castle in Alfheim where he was to serve as an ambassador to the Light Elves, though this was mere convenience for Odin, for he had stripped my brother of all previous titles and holdings. However he could not dispose of him in the way he had my father. Freyr was too well liked, even in Asgard. Exile suited him far better.

Today would be the last I saw of him.

"Everything will be fine, sister. We will be together soon enough. You will see," he said to me in a low voice so that the guards surrounding us could not hear. I looked up at him, my voice caught in my throat. I had never so much as spent a day without him. He was my brother, my twin, always looking out for me from the morning he was born. And now I was to be left, the younger without the elder, in the land of my captors.

He put a hand around my shoulders, his touch momentarily freeing me from my fears. I closed my eyes, memorizing the feeling before it too was taken away.

It ended far too soon as we were pulled to a stop. We were in the great hall now, the tables overflowing with food and drink, its occupants deafeningly making merry. It made me ill. Freyr was led to the far end of the high table and sat among Odin's ministers. I was pushed into an empty seat between the two princes of Asgard, one golden the other raven haired. I sat without a word, looking at neither one of them.

I knew why I was seated here. I knew why I wasn't being sent to Alfheim with my brother, to live out my days a figurehead in the land of the Elves. I was a pawn that's usefulness had yet to cease. Now that my brother had been stripped publicly of his position and holdings, I remained the only heir to Vanaheim's throne. A very marry-able heir.

"Your loveliness knows no words, Princess," the blonde prince offered.

"Words must be hard to come by as they are not so easily stolen," I replied, staring at my plate. The prince seemed genuinely hurt by the sentiment.

"We wish you only happiness here, Princess. Surely-"

"If you wished me happiness, you would not have taken me from my home and killed my father."

"I-"

But the prince had nothing to say to that. What could he?

I sat for the rest of the meal in silence, touching nothing. Every so often the other prince would glance my way, but he would quickly turn and focus on something else when I caught him. I found him to be rather the more agreeable of the two.

My wrists ached in their shackles, swollen and purple. Even if I desired to eat, I suspected they would not even hold a knife. The manacles stopped me from doing anything to heal them, halting the flow of my magic.

At the end of the feast my chair was pulled back, startling me as a guard took hold of both of my arms. Across the table I could see the same thing happening to Freyr, and he was led towards the doors.

"Freyr!" I screamed, fighting against the guard. "Freyr-"

"Be good, sweet sister and farewell!" he called back as the doors slammed shut. All volition seemed to leave me then, and I sunk to my knees, held up only by the guard. I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes and did nothing to stop them from rolling down my cheeks. I looked back up at the table and found Odin, my rage flaring once more.

"Will you take away everything I love?" I cried, and I was proud my voice did not shake.

"Take her," he said by way of response and the guard pulled me towards a second set of doors and away from the hall.

I stood on the balcony of my new chambers, staring out into the night. Beneath my feet shattered glass crunched. They had still yet to remove my shackles. I had beat my way through the door, for I had been right; my hands could bear nothing, not even the turn of a handle. They now ran slick with blood, dumb tools at the ends of my arms.

Flickering lights illuminated the city below me. The sounds of music floated up, sending another wave of sickness through me. They were singing- rejoicing- at the death of my people, the ruination of my kingdom.

"Princess?"

I whipped around, my hands flying out in front of me. It was one of Asgard's princes, The raven-haired, silent one. He looked at me with sad green eyes, his brows furrowed in a look of concern.

"It seems to me that Odin has a habit of collecting the orphans he has made," I said as I surveyed the prince. There was something that seemed to reek of winter about him and I felt my mind rush to somewhere in the future where he would find his own face foreign to him, but I pushed it back. Why should I care what the future held for a prince of Asgard?

"Pardon me, I do not understand."

"Forget I said anything," I muttered, turning back to the sky. Not even it remained the same here, its constellations rearranged, its color more black than deep blue. I could hear him moving behind me but didn't turn.

"I noticed your wrists," he said finally. I turned to stare once more at him, my face devoid of emotion. He looked uncomfortable. "It was cruel, what my father did to you- more than cruel. I am so very sorry."

He moved closer to me, his hands outstretched. I stood my ground, even as his hands came to cradle my own. His hands were cool to the touch, but not unpleasant. I could feel a rush of magic soar into my hands, feel my broken bones knit back together and my bruises subside. Then, in a second wave of magic, my shackles fell to the floor with a loud clang.

"You have magic?" I asked, momentarily taken aback. Magic was not common among the Aesir as it was in Vanaheim. He looked at me, his expression changing to one of sarcasm.

"No, why would you think that?"

"Why did you help me?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Because I think that we could be friends."

"I do not have a good record in the practice."

"Still, you do not have to be alone. I've heard about you. I believe we have more in common than you think."

"What is your price then, o Prince?" I asked mockingly. Everything had one, I had learned. "Of what use am I to a great prince of Asgard?"

He looked slightly taken aback. Perhaps he had meant it sincerely. I wasn't sure that made a difference. But then he answered, his face set.

"I require your company tomorrow."

* * *

**This is my first Thor fic. I really hope you like it. For reference, Freya is the most powerful Norse goddess, the goddess of love, beauty, war, death and magic. Please review! I love to hear what you thin and they give me a serious confidence boost!**


	2. Just One Yesterday

_The fields were burning. _

_I could hear the screams below, feel the crackle of energy in the air as they fought, smell the rust of blood in the air. I turned as Freyr appeared behind me, his hair rumpled, his clothes smeared with soot. _

_"We need to move Valia," he said, using his childhood nickname for me. He took one of my hands and pulled, but I dug my heels in._

_"No, Freyr, let me help. I can help, you know I can-"_

_"No," he said forcefully. "You need to get to the tower-"_

_Just then the doors slammed open, flooding the room with Asgardian warriors. The light reflected off of their armor, making it look as if they were engulfed in flames. Freyr unsheathed his sword, his eyes locked on them as they advanced. "Go, Valia. Now!"_

_"Freyr!"_

_"Now!"_

_I backed up, torn between following his orders and making sure he was alright. They charged him. He raised his sword to defend himself- to give me time I realized. I faced them, my chest heaving in anger._

_"Duck," I yelled, and Freyr was on his knees, his hands covering his head. I shot out a bolt of energy, nearly invisible. As it collided with the warriors, they fell, one by one like dominoes. I wasn't sure if they were dead or alive. I didn't much care. _

_"Valia, go!" Freyr called again. This time I obeyed him, slipping into the staircase, but instead of going up into the tower I went down into the bowels of battle, my heart pumping fire into my veins. I paused only to stoop and retrieve a sword from one of my father's fallen guards._

_"Sleep well, and rejoice in the Fields of Folkvagnr," I said quietly as I pulled the sword from his grasp. His hand was still warm. _

_The great hall looked like Náir. Corpses from both sides littered the floor as the fight raged on. No one noticed my entry, which suited me fine. I could feel the magic engulf me as I slipped behind the Asgardian line, disguised as one of them. I let the façade slip as I attacked, blasting at their numbers from behind. They could do nothing to stop me until my rage was sated and they stood strewn before me. The last thing I remembered was a feeling of hope rising in me, before the Vanir forces' looks of fear told me how very wrong I was. _

_I had been knocked out, I learned later, by one of Odin's own guards. I hadn't heard him approach in the storm of my magic, had been too daft to look around. I was brought before the Allfather, bleeding and bruised and spitting mad. The guards threw me at his feet, bound in those accursed shackles that prevented me from doing anything. Anything deadly at least. _

_"The Witch, Allfather."_

_I spat at his feet. "I hope your ravens rip the other eye from your rotting corpse," I snarled, my temper flaring. My accursed temper, the temper that had gotten me into this whole mess in the first place. Freyr always warned me against such rashness, but I did not possess his graces. Odin surveyed me, his face impassive. _

_"Get her up. Sound the horn."_

_The realization of what was happening sank in. The guards led me roughly towards the gates. I bit and screamed but it did little to impede them. I could hear the war horns overhead, their cries shaking the ground. They threw me down in front of the pyre, fastening my hands to the great wooden stake. _

_Odin appeared behind me, his voice echoing upward, to where I could see my father emerging, battle-worn and bloodstained from the tower balcony. I could see the shock, the fear as he saw me there. _

_"Njord!" Odin called, the fields of battle suddenly silent. "It is time to end this war. I charge your daughter's life for your surrender."_

_"No-" my father called, watching in horror as one of the guards handed Odin a torch. "Valfreya!"_

_"Father-" I called, but he was gone, storming down the stairs. He ran to the gates, blocked by Asgardians. He threw down his glove, challenging him. Odin stepped forward, wielding his sword. I struggled against my bonds, eyes glued to the battle before me._

_It was over far too soon. My father was old, no longer the warrior he had been. He stooped, far too slow, and Odin beheaded him, raising his head up for all to see. The crowd cheered. I could not see Odin's face. I screamed, still fighting my bonds, but there was nothing, no magic I could perform that would bring him back to me. _

I awoke with a start, stuck somewhere between the nightmare and reality. If only they were just that, nightmares. I sat up rubbing my eyes. They were raw from crying. I suddenly recalled the night before.

I flipped my wrists over, staring at them. They were healed and unbound, with no remnant of the trauma they had caused.

_The prince_, the black haired prince. He had really freed me. I darted up from the bed, laughing as I looked at the shackles on the ground, lying among the broken glass of the door. Then his words flew back to me. _I require your company_. Whatever he meant, it couldn't be good. I knew the toll of Asgardian prices.

I crossed to the balcony, stepping lightly over the broken glass. The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, illuminating the entire castle in gold. It made me miss the forests and fields of home. I looked around, staring not at the glowing city around me, but at the outer walls of my chamber. I carefully removed my shoes and stuffed them down the front of my dress before climbing carefully onto the stone banister. Once I had found sufficient foot holds in the wall, I stepped, off, dangling precariously, it seemed, from only my fingertips. I looked down and was grateful I had never been afraid of heights. Even so the drop set a whistling of fear through my bones.

I worked my way down as quickly as I dared, sweat dripping from my brows. It was much harder work than I had expected and when I finally reached the ground my muscles were screaming, my fingers and toes bloody. I quickly put my shoes back on, ignoring the discomfort and set off at a brisk pace. As I neared what seemed to be an entrance to the public market I stopped. I had been on display to all of Asgard the night before, surely I would be recognized. I looked around for anything to use as a disguise, cursing myself for not yet learning the art of magical concealment.

There were several old, green weathered sacks lying around, filled with bundles of herbs from the court gardens. I dumped them out, watching over my shoulder for guards as the magic flowed from my fingers. They transformed into a rough green cape, long and billowing. I wrapped it around myself, pulling the hood low so that it shaded my eyes. At a whim I took the herbs too, carrying them close to my chest as I made for the entrance. A guard stood halfway down the tunnel, lazily checking those who were leaving.

"Halt!"

My stomach dropped as I realized he was talking to me. "Herbs for the market?" I asked, feigning incomprehension. I held up the bundles and he nodded, once again returning to his bored position against the wall. I darted out into the market as fast as I dared.

It was alive with sounds and smells. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in- well days. The smell of roast venison made my mouth water. I found the vender and traded the herbs for a portion, my stomach suddenly racked with hunger. I ate ravenously, licking my fingers clean. Growing up in a palace, this was the first I had known of true hunger. The stall proprietor smiled at me, a kind, white-haired old man, and made no comments on my manners. He gave me a glass of leftover buttermilk for nothing before pointing me in the direction of the Rainbow Bridge. I thanked him sincerely before setting out once more, wrapping my cloak more closely around myself. I could see it now, see the golden dome at its end which held my escape. I imagined what I would say those Freyr when I arrived, the look of surprise when he saw me-

"Seize her!"

The throne room was enormous, lined with hundreds of thick stone columns the size of small houses, each ornately carved and fashioned out of marble. I fell hard on my hands and knees, but refused to cry out in pain. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I looked up at Odin sitting on the throne above and scowled. He was dressed in his armor, wiped clean of the stench of battle. It glittered under the rays of sunlight falling through the windows behind the throne.

"Ragnar says he found you trying to escape."

I stared back at Odin, an expression of hatred seared onto my features. "That's what one tends to do in prison," I spat back. But there was no sound. I looked down, my eyes widening in shock. I tried again, but nothing came out, not even the slightest squeak. I heard footsteps behind and turned, only to be kicked back into position by the guard. I hunched over, the taste of blood filling my mouth. He pulled me back up by the hair, wrenching my neck back.

"That's enough."

I recognized the voice. It was the raven-haired prince.

"Loki, this does not concern you."

"Father, I believe you forget, we are no longer at war," he said simply, his eyes fixed on Odin. His father surveyed him, his jaw set. "Vé was my brother, lest you forget."

"And Njord her father. Both sides suffered loss, father. You only perpetuate ill will."

"I will have none of this. She was caught escaping. You know the sentence-"

"She was not escaping. I asked her to join me in the marketplace. Look, she wears my cloak," he said, ducking to unfasten the clasp. He gave me a very meaningful look before rising once more. The cloak shimmered, no longer the rough sack fabric. I watched as he unhooked a golden clasp from the neck, two snakes twisted together, each biting the others tail, and gave it to Odin. Odin stared at it before handing it back to Loki.

"She is not to be trusted my son, she is-"

"If I may, father, she is a princess, and I believe she should be treated as such. Give her the apartments next to mine. She is skilled in the art of sorcery, father. She could teach me the ways of the Vanir's magic. I would accept her as my responsibility."

I turned to stare at Loki, dumbfounded and wary. This earned me another firm yank by Ragnar, or whoever it was holding my hair. Why did he keep trying to help me. He seemed bright. Surely, he must have known that I would just as soon see the whole lot of them roasting on spits above the fire. That the mental image brought me great joy. But here he was, defending me. I hadn't even thanked him for the night before. In fact the last thing I had said to him had been mocking. But here he stood. I couldn't understand it.

"On your head then, be it."

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**Another chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews! They were really helpful. I know that Bakalady was worried about the cruel way in which Odin was portrayed. I hope this snippet of backstory helps. Of course, this is biased by Freya heavily since she appears on the losing side of the Aesir-Vanir war. Please leave me your thoughts, they are much appreciated:) **


	3. Lies We Tell

Ragnar released me and I fell hard on all fours. My lip was split, blood spilling down my chin. I looked up at Loki through my hair, my brows furrowed. He still stared at Odin, his face impassive. "Thank you Father."

Loki's eyes flicked down to mine and he offered a hand, a hand which I ignored. I stood and followed him out of the throne room. The doors closed solidly, shaking the floor beneath. I followed him up a set of stairs and then another. Finally, Loki turned to me, looking irritated.

"That was really quite stupid of you. Trying to run away like that. Heimdall would have stopped you even if you had managed to make it to the bridge, and that would have taken a lot more explaining."

I stopped, backing away from him, my face set. "Stop it." He stared back at me, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Stop it. Stop treating me with kindness, stop helping me. You're Aesir! You're worse than Aesir! You're a son of Odin!"

"Is that truly what you think?" he asked. His face was impassive, though something glinted behind his emerald eyes.

"It would be easier," I said, holding my head up.

"Would it?"

"What do you want from me?" I said, backing up until my back was against the wall. "What else can you take from me?"

I slid down the wall, burying my head in my hands. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped the cloak around myself. A wall inside me seemed to collapse. I began to sob uncontrollably, my hands knotting in the fabric of the cloak. I missed my father. I missed Freyr. I missed home. I'd never been so alone in all my life. My nerves had been stretched tight for so long, and now they seemed to be finally breaking. It suddenly seemed to sink in that I would never see my father again, never hear Freyr call me Valia again.

Loki sat next to me. I could feel him though he never spoke. I wondered why he stayed.

"I know what it is like to be alone," he said. I hadn't realized I had spoken aloud. "Now get up. Crying about it won't help anything."

He pulled me to my feet. His grip was strong, but gentler than I would have thought. I gave in, allowing him to lead me through the passages and up a second staircase. I didn't pay attention to where we were going. I was so lost in my misery that I was surprised when I was suddenly being sat in a chair.

I was in anther unfamiliar room. It was spacious, the furniture was large and ornate, carved of nearly black wood. Everything was covered in rich shades of emerald and gold. It was neat as a pin, stocked from floor to ceiling with hundreds of books. Sunlight filtered in, diffused by the green window hangings that were partially drawn.

I looked up at Loki, unease settling in my stomach. I could feel myself shaking, my nerves past the breaking point. He was working with something, his back turned to me. I pulled my knees up to my chest once more and rested my chin upon them. Loki was right. There was no point in running. There was nowhere I could go.

He turned back to me, carrying a small bottle and a rag. "Look up."

I did as he asked. He gently washed the grime from my face before spreading a balm from the bottle over my split lip. The pain instantly left me. He pressed the bottle into my hand. "It will help with the pain."

I gasped as his hand closed around mine. My vision suddenly clouded over, shifting to the black of the darkest winter night. Snow swirled around me in stinging flurries, propelled by the endless screaming wind. Everything seemed to be a mess of black, white and the blue of ice. Figures stood around me, their skin the same blue at the ice surrounding them. Only their eyes stood out, a bright, bloody red sunk deep into their heads. _Jotuns._

I was not afraid. I followed them as they crossed to a ruined temple, great pieces of the ceiling fallen in. It was sparsely illuminated inside, lit only by a few beams of moonlight.

Another figure stood before the throne, which was occupied by one of the largest of the Jotuns. She recognized him as Laufey, their king. The other figure appeared blurry, as if not fully formed. She heard his words, echoed back and refracted until it seemed they possessed every tone known to Vanir ears, making it nearly impossible to distinguish the true voice.

"This is a great day for Jotunheim. Asgard is finally ours."

My eyes snapped back open, taking a moment to refocus. My chest heaved as if I had just run for hours on end. It took me a moment to realize Loki was holding me in the chair. His face was ashen, his eyes wide.

"Valfreya, are you ill?" he asked, feeling my forehead. I could only imagine what the vision had looked like from the outside. Probably as if I'd gone mad. "Your skin. It's like ice."

"I am fine," I said, still trying to catch my breath. "It was simply a vision. Something that may yet pass."

He stared at me, dumbfounded. "What did you see?"

I found myself smiling. I couldn't help it. "I saw Jotunheim."

Loki looked appalled. "Jotunheim? What of? Do they plan an invasion?"

Jotuns were sworn enemies of Asgard. They had fought long before in the War of the Eternal Winters, but they had been defeated, their casket taken from them. It now lay somewhere under my feet in the vaults of Asgard. The Vanir had been sympathetic to the Jotun defeat, thought they had not aided them in the war. My father could not allow the Jotuns to freeze Midgard, though he did not see it as his place to stop them. I had visited Jotunheim once, when I was younger. It was from this visit that I recognized Laufey. He was a domineering presence- ruthless and war-worn. It had not been an unpleasant visit, however. I found Jotunheim, though desolate, to hold its own sort of mystic beauty. It was a sentiment shared neither by my father or brother.

For this reason, I chose to tell Loki pieces, if not the whole truth. "I saw their temple. It lay in ruins, still, after all these years. Laufey still sat upon the throne. Jotuns gathered outside."

"And?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?" Loki asked, his brows furrowed. "What did Laufey say? Does he threaten war?"

"Visions are not like books, open for perusal," I said to him. This was fully true. They were never easy to decipher. Parts always seemed to be missing, those pieces of the puzzle which still had choices to make in order to lead them there. Still, they were nearly always true, though not always interpreted correctly. It took sedir to change one's destiny, and even then, often the decisions made by those who underwent sedir would still find themselves at the same place, if only a little later. Destiny was cruel like that.

"It is not uncommon for the Jotun to gather by the temple. Perhaps it was a holiday," I supplied. The little bottle was warm in my hand. It caused a slight bubble of guilt to rise in me.

"What do you know of the Jotuns?" Loki asked derisively. "Those foul monsters of winter."

"I have been to Jotunheim. I have eaten in their halls, drunk with them and made merry. You cannot believe crib-tales forever, my prince."

"Why would you have a vision of these monst- these _Jotuns_, if there were no significance?" Loki asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I do not know," I replied simply.

Loki stared at me a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed before getting up. "I will show you to your chambers."

He led me back out into the corridor and to a nearly identical door to the left of his own. He pushed it open. It led into a second set of chambers, almost indistinguishable to the first, though perhaps smaller. The furniture here was the same almost black wood, though they were hung with a light, almost ice blue. The shelves were bare, however, as were the various tables and open wardrobe.

Loki waved a hand and several dresses appeared, all in the same blue. He stopped, staring around. His eyes were far away. I suspected he was still thinking of the Jotuns. A hint of guilt twinged inside me again, but it was easy to push away.

"I shall fetch you tomorrow morning for breakfast."

He turned without another word and pulled open the door. "Thank you," I called, though I wasn't sure he heard me. He didn't stop if he did.

* * *

**Another chapter. I think the next one may be in Loki's viewpoint. I am not decided. Thank you for your reviews so far! I find them so helpful! Please continue reviewing! I love hearing your opinions. It makes me so happy to get a review, even if its constructive critisism because it helps me to be a better writer. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. **


	4. Loki: Winter Winds

I knocked on the door. Politely at first, then with more fervor when there was no answer. Finally I opened it, throwing civility aside. She seemed nowhere in sight. I crossed to the bedchamber, a very large part of me fearing that she had yet again attempted escape. It seemed she was prone to rash fits of passion, no matter how ill-advised the action.

The bedchamber was in very near darkness, the curtains drawn tight to block out the morning sun. Valfreya lay atop the bed her hand stretched upwards towards the ceiling.

She was truly beautiful, there was no denying it. Her hair lay moon bright across the covers. Her eyes were a deep blue, large and thick-lashed, the only thing dark in her porcelain features. Everything about her physical appearance seemed delicate and graceful and feminine. Not at all the sort of girl who broke her own wrists to prove a point.

"Vanaheim has two moons." My brows furrowed for a moment. I looked up, following her hand towards the ceiling. My confusion was traded for awe.

She had painted the night sky on the ceiling. But it was like no night sky I'd ever known. Two moons sat side by side, one a great deal larger than the other. Scattered around them were familiar constellations, though they were shuffled around. They winked back at me like real stars, just as the moons seemed to shine just as the real ones did.

"Its winter in Vanaheim," she said finally, spreading her outstretched fingers. Real snowflakes fluttered from the ceiling, settling in her hair and eyelashes. I caught some in my hand, perplexed.

"How are you doing that?" I asked. No one in Asgard was able to manipulate nature in such a way. She shrugged, closing her eyes. I knew she was picturing home, wherever that was. There was such sadness behind her eyes. I could see it, even behind her anger.

"If we don't hurry, we will miss breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she lied. I could nearly always tell when someone was lying. I supposed it was because I did it so much myself.

"Regardless, the Allfather has requested your presence."

She turned to look at me, her eyes narrowed, jaw set. She gave me the distinct impression of one not to trifle with. I had heard tell of her from Thor, that she had leveled an entire regiment within the great hall of her palace, leaving not a single Asgardian alive. They had been placed under Ragnar's command, no doubt causing his treatment of her yesterday. Thor had wondered aloud whether Ragnar had been mistaken, whether it was some other Vanir sorceress.

"She is simply too delicate a maiden," he had said as they made their way up the stairs to their bedchambers. "Did you see how she wept for her brother? I do not know why father would not send them to Alfheim together."

"Did you see her wrists?" I had asked, remembering their bruised skin underneath the heavy shackles.

"Her wrists? I was too busy trying to avoid her wrath. She has a sharp tongue. Understandable, of course, under the circumstances, but I fear her not. There is no bite to her.

I had bid Thor goodnight but could not seem to get the girl out of my mind. I found myself wandering up the staircase once more to where I knew her room lay. There were guards posted outside her door, though they bowed me inside without comment.

She had stood on her balcony, glass shattered all around her. It had taken her nearly a minute to realize my presence.

"Princess?" I called, finding my own voice to sound hesitant. She finally turned. Her face had been tear-streaked, her hands broken and bloody. She stared back at me as if I were the oddity, her brows furrowed. "It seems to me that Odin has a habit of collecting the orphans he has made."

I found myself repeating that over and over to myself, though she had dismissed it. It seemed such an odd thing to say, though after yesterday, her fit or vision or whatever the Vanir went into that allowed them to see the future, I found myself wondering if it meant something more. What, I had not the slightest idea.

Valfreya rose, breaking my contemplation. I turned, leading her from the room in silence. I wasn't sure what to say? What did the prince of the victorious kingdom say to the imprisoned princess of the loser? It was like a sick joke.

We entered the great hall. It was filled with the delicious smells of roast meats and fresh bread, the table overflowing with a whole manner of exotic fruits, some of which I did not recognize. They must have been brought back from the Vanir. I glanced at Valfreya. Her eyes were fixed on several of these, her hands clenched into fists, confirming my theory.

I pulled out the chair to my right and she sat with a murmured thanks. Thor looked up from his plate and smiled brightly at the pair of us.

"Finally," Father said from his perch at the head of the table. I looked up at him. His one good eye was focused on Valfreya, narrowed in dislike. I doubted he would ever take to her, not after Vè was killed on Vanaheim soil.

Mother looked uncomfortable next to him, uncomfortable with his abusive treatment of her but loathe to go against the Allfather's wishes. Father continued to speak, his voice booming over the nearly empty hall. "Loki has taken it upon himself to see that you are treated with all the proper measures of a princess. As such, you will accompany him to all of his lessons, take meals with him and teach him the magic of the Vanir. You are not to step out of his sight without his permission. And if you attempt escape-"

"You'll kill me? Let us not waste time with empty threats Allfather."

The room was dead silent. I stared at Valfreya, my eyes wide. Did she have no sense of self-preservation at all? She seemed not to be paying attention. Instead her eyes were fixed on the bowl of strange fruit. It withered in front of my eyes.

"There are worse things than death," Father said fiercely. To everyone's surprise, she smiled, but said no more. Father got up, still brisling, and left, the door slamming shut behind him.

The hall was left in uneasy silence. Thor was the first to speak. "What happened to those purple fruits?"

I didn't have to look. I knew what had happen to them, but said nothing. We ate the rest of the meal in silence, eat of us staring down at own plates. It was if a weight blanketed the room. I wondered if it would eventually lift.

It took far too long before I was able to excuse myself for my lessons. Valfreya followed wordlessly. I let the doors to the great hall slam shut before I turned to her. I could feel frustration rising in my chest. "Do you insist on being so recklessly stupid?"

"Is it reckless if one has nothing to lose?"

"My father will have you locked in the dungeons if you continue to push him," I said, trying to instill in her the reality of the matter. Acting as her guardian was like fighting the wind. She sighed heavily, her jaw clenched, no doubt fighting back some other quip.

I chose to continue as if I hadn't noticed. "My first lesson of the day is history with-"

"What sort of history?" she asked, interrupting me. She looked down, leading me to believe she hadn't meant to speak.

"Today we are to study Asgard's first king, my grandfather."

"Oh," she said sounding disappointed. I wanted to as why, but I held my tongue. At least she was speaking amicably.

"After that I have weapons training until lunch and then the rest of the day is reserved for magical studies and free time."

She nodded and followed me into the library, her face melancholy. That changed, however, when she spotted the monstrous amount of books. He eyes widened and her mouth fell slightly open. She seemed unable to contain her enchantment at the thousands of tomes, though I could see her trying. I thought a moment before deciding, moved by her sudden happiness.

"I shall speak with Tutor Halvr. We can spend the time instead reading. If you prefer."

She stared at me in the odd fashion of hers, like she was caught between two emotions. She nodded mutely, trailing like a shadow as I spoke to Halvr. He seemed just as content to push off our lesson as I was.

"You must have had a library such as this in Vanaheim," I said, trying to start a conversation. She shook her head. In her wonderment, she seemed to forget to be horrible to me.

"Ours was only small. Most of our stories are not passed through pages, but through the tongue."

"Find something you wish to read then. I shall be at that table, by the windows," I said. She nodded and I left, crossing to the ladder which led to the upper floor. From here I could watch her without her knowledge. I always found it was easier to see into the heart of a person when they thought they were alone.

She crisscrossed through the many shelves, her fingers lingering on the spines of the books as if they were long lost friends. After a few moments she selected one and sunk down onto the floor, cross-legged, and began to read.

"She is strong," came a voice to my left. I turned to find my mother standing next to me, leaning over the railing, she too staring at the girl. "She is still young, younger than you. Young hearts are more easily swayed. She will be alright my son."

"Mother, I don't understand. I don't-"

"This is hard on all of us dear. Blood has been spilt and passions awoken. But you show her great kindness. I am proud of you."

He nodded, looking back down at the girl. She was completely immersed in her book now, her slivery hair falling in front of her face. She pushed it behind her ears impatiently, her eyes dancing back and forth across the pages. I turned back to Mother, but she was gone as so often was her nature.

I climbed back down the ladder and wound my way through the aisles to where Valfreya was seated on to floor. I sat next to her, peering to see what she was reading about. It was a volume of poetry by several prominent Light Elf poets. She traced her finger down the page as she read, mouthing the words to herself. For a long while I thought she hadn't noticed my arrival, but then she spoke.

"Have you ever been to Alfheim?"

"Once, though I hardly remember. I was very young at the time," I replied, watching her face. She kept it buried in the book, though she was no longer reading.

"I hope that it is as beautiful a place as it is described in these poems. It always seemed Freyr enjoyed beauty most of all," she said, sadness slipping into her voice.

"The whole of Alfheim seems to be green," I said, driven to speak by something I couldn't quite explain. "And there are forests as old as the realm itself. They say it holds every shade of green."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. I went on, struggling to remember every detail from my childhood visit.

"The castle sits in the middle of one of the forests, on the banks of a waterfall. It is built around the trees, its stone's removed to make way for the trees, and in some places the floors give way to the river. Flowers grow from the walls and many of the ceilings open so they can see the stars on a clear night."

She stared at me, her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth and then closed it again before finally speaking. "Do you think Freyr could be happy there?"

"I do," I said, nodding. I glanced down at the book in her hands. "We should start for the training field. You can bring that if you like."

She shook her head, closing the book. "I just had to know what sort of place Freyr had been taken."

She gave me a small smile. A sincere one. I helped her to her feet and she carefully placed the book back on the shelf where it belonged.

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**As always, thank you for all of your awesome reviews! I love reading them!**

**Any thoughts on Loki's point of view so far? I find him to be a difficult character to write, though in this point in time he is perhaps less jaded. Please review:) **


	5. Blood and Magic

I followed Loki back through the maze of the castle. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Freyr was most likely safe and happy with kind Elves for company. I supposed that was the most I could ask for. I was even glad he had been sent there now, instead of here with me. He didn't handle conflicts well, nor problems of any sort of nature. At least in Alfheim he could in continue what he was good at- making merry and breaking girls' hearts.

The training field was in a large courtyard. It was truly more of a ring, surrounded by a waist high fence. There were already others inside, sparring with blunted practice swords. "The field house is this way," Loki said, leading me to it. "There should be spare armor for you to borrow."

I nodded and watched as he crossed to one of the other doors before opening the one he had motioned to. The room was nearly empty. A few pairs of training clothes lay on a table. I quickly picked a pair that looked as if they would fit. I pulled on the brown pants which fitted tightly to my legs and pulled on a pair of tall boots overtop before pulling on the shirt, which flowed loosely around me. Not something I would have chosen. I looked around and spotted a chest plate lying on one of the many benches in the room. I picked it up, about to fit it over my shirt when another woman entered, scowling. "Put that down."

She was tall, as I was, though much more athletically built. Her long golden hair was pulled into a high ponytail and secured with a leather cord. She was nearly fully dressed in armor- not the training clothes I wore. I realized how silly I must look.

"That is not yours, _Princess_. You are no longer in Vanaheim. Go embroider something. Learn your place. If you think you're special because Loki has taken a liking to you, you are sadly mistaken," she said, tugging the chest plate from my grasp. I felt as if I had been slapped. I had never met this girl in my life and yet she seemed to hate me so thoroughly. She left, letting the door slam behind her.

I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders slump. I missed Vanaheim more in that moment than ever. I had once enjoyed training more than any of my other studies. It seemed those day too were over.

I stepped back out to the training field without looking for anymore armor. No armor could hold back their biting words. The woman laughed as I exited, her eyes falling on mine. "Come and watch as the princess hefts a sword for the first time."

"That is unkind Sif," Thor said from behind her. "We shall find you some armor Princess Valfreya."

"Do not bother, your highness," I said, though my voice did not sound as strong as I wished. I was angry that I let Sif get to me so. Loki exited from the other door, clad in rich green and black armor, gold gleaming at his neck. He looked upon me with a look I could not quite decipher, though it held pity and worry. I was tired of seeing it in his eyes. I turned to the Lady Sif.

"I shall trade your insult for your injury," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. She laughed again.

"I shall be glad to see you eat your words," she said, hefting her double bladed practice sword. I pulled an old practice sword from the bin. It was chipped and beat to Náir and the balance was horribly askew. I made a face as I balanced it in my hand. "Don't laugh at live dragons."

Loki stopped me before I entered the ring, Sif already standing in its center. He didn't say anything, merely nodded. Thor was still calling for the whole thing to be called off, clearly convinced that I was about to be murdered. I hadn't known he cared.

I squared up to Sif, holding the sword loosely in my hand. She struck first, whipping her sword at my head at a frightening speed. I leapt back easily, however, darting just out of reach. She scowled at me. I tossed my sword aside, smiling as it stuck in the dirt. I watched as her brows furrowed, confused. I ducked a second blow and then a third, the fourth coming dangerously close to my shoulder. She had swung with such force, however, that it had knocked her slightly off-balance. I used that as my opportunity to attack. I shot a bolt of nearly invisible energy from my palm. She fell hard in the dirt, spread-eagle on her back. I walked calmly to where my blade lay stuck and walked back. She was stunned, though she was trying to get to her feet. I leveled the sword at her neck.

"I yield," she spat bitterly. I removed the sword from her throat and offered her a hand.

"It looks like you finally have a sparring partner Loki," came an unfamiliar voice from behind me. I turned to see a man striding onto the field who could only be the Swordmaster. He was tall and tanned, with slightly over long brown hair and a scarred face. He came to stand next to me, surveying me in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

"I- I can't-" I found myself stuttering. "I was merely settling an insult."

"Regardless, the Allfather has decreed you shall train, and if you train, you do as I say. Sif, pair with Hogan. Fandral shall work with Thor today."

"And what of Volstagg," Sif asked.

"He is not training with us today."

Loki had reached the center of the ring. "I have an extra set of armor in the field house. I shall fetch it for Valfreya since there was none in the woman's chambers."

"No. She fights as she is. I wish to observe."

Loki nodded, moving towards the bin of practice swords. The Swordmaster stopped him. "With your knives."

My eye flicked to the belt at Loki's hips, full of throwing knives. They were no practice blades- they glinted razor-sharp. I stared at them a moment before marching over to the sword-bin, hoping to find a less horrid blade. Finding no true swords meeting my demands, I instead picked a short sword, barely larger than a hunting knife. I stuck it in my belt and jogged back over to where the Swordmaster and Loki stood. I nodded at the pair of them, mentally preparing myself for this match. There was no questioning it, this would be a much more even match than Sif. Loki, I knew, possessed magic, making him a far more formidable foe.

"Begin," the Swordmaster called. We circled each other, neither of us seeming to want to strike first. Loki, I now realized, was my protector in Asgard- it seemed that he had been telling the truth my first night in Asgard- it seemed he did want to be my friend. I knew that now, after meeting Sif, after his nod of encouragement, after he told me of Alfheim. I didn't want to fight him, but at the same token, I didn't think I had much of a choice.

Loki threw first, his blade whizzing just past my ear. I hadn't had time to react, to lost in my own realizations. I had the strange feeling he missed on purpose.

"Let's get going," the Swordmaster called, impatient. Suddenly there were twelve Lokis surrounding me, each winding up to throw. I waited until they had released, simultaneously, before throwing up a wall of energy that surrounded me on all sides, dissolving the blades. We slipped into a dance, his carefully coordinated attacks, my blocks, until he was left with one knife. He advanced on me, its blade glimmering wickedly. I drew my own much less impressive weapon and gripped tight. Loki struck like a cobra. He was unbelievably fast, so fast that I didn't have time to do anything but my first instinct. I raised my hand.

Blood was everywhere. I heard the thump of my hand fall to the ground and stood, dumbly, staring at the stump just above my elbow. I let a whimper escape my lips as I stumbled, falling to my knees. Loki was there to catch me, his face painted with terror. "Nine realms, Freya-"

It made me feel a little guilty. I kicked his legs from under him and sat on his chest, my knife at his throat. I held the other one up so that he could see it reappear, mostly unharmed. He had managed to knick me before I had begun the spell, something I wasn't used to with this move. I usually used it on Freyr who was nowhere near as fast.

"Do you yield?" I asked, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. He stared back shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Then I found myself on my back, Loki, having managed to flip me over, pressing the blade of my own knife to my neck.

"Do you?" he asked, grinning evilly. The Swordmaster approached, making no comments. Loki rose, helping me up. We turned to face the Swordmaster. He surveyed us a moment before saying, "I have seen enough for today."

He strode over to where Thor was fighting the blonde Fandral. "You need to teach me how you make those energy bursts," Loki said, turning to me. I ripped a section from the bottom of my shirt and attempted to bind my arm. It was really bleeding now. I guessed it had gone deeper than I first expected. Loki helped me tie it around my arm, seeing that I was struggling.

"Sorry about that," he said as his nimble finger made quick work of the knots. I shook my head. "It's nothing." I hesitated, still torn between my anger and the kindness he had shown me. I finally settled somewhere halfway and asked, "Perhaps could you show me how you managed to duplicate yourself so? I've never seen anything like it."

"After lunch we shall speak of magic until we both become entirely fed up with the subject," he said lightly, stopping by the field house doors.

"You might as well cancel your other lessons then," I replied, and I found myself smiling. He returned the expression. It was only a slight upturn of his lips but I was beginning to learn that everything he did was in shades of subtlety. It was something I had never mastered.

We took a walking lunch as Loki insisted on showing me the castle so that I wouldn't get lost. I wanted to tell him this was silly as I was not allowed to be out of his sight except for sleeping but I bit my tongue. The castle was truly enormous and seemed more so the more I saw of it. Most rooms he only gave a passing glance, but in others he stopped and showed me what they held. The music room held the most interest for me.

"What is that?" I asked. **In the center stood an odd sort of something. It wasn't a table, I knew, for the top stood at an angle that would make it quite impossible for anyone to eat off of. And besides, it wasn't shaped like any sort of table I'd ever seen. Only one side was flat, while the other was rounded, but in a lopsided sort of way, as of the side closest to me had been punctured. I moved forward and saw that the odd angle of the top revealed strings- strings of dusty, but gleaming metal that stretched from the flat side all the way to the curved one, each with a little black box on top which matched the dusty color of the outside. I crossed to the even side his eyes following the sudden variation in colors. Long, thin rectangles stretched out before me, some larger than others and still others overlapping the first. They were a varied; some white, others the same dusty black. **

Loki laughed at me. "It's a piano. Haven't you ever seen one before?"

I stared at him. "No. We don't have them in Vanaheim."

He stepped forward, the same subtle smile playing across his lips. His fingers danced across the keys releasing a beautiful melody. I tried to replicate his results with little success.

"Let's go," I huffed after Loki could no longer contain his laughter at my fumbling attempts. He had the tact to look slightly apologetic, though his eyes still glinted with mirth.

"We'll see if you're laughing after your lesson!" I said, holding my chin up.

"Let's," he said, and once again took the lead. He opened a door that seemed to lead to nothing but the most enormous spiral staircase I'd ever seen.

"This is how princesses get locked in towers," I said quietly to myself, craning my neck to look up. Or I thought it was to myself. Loki laughed.

We reached the top of the stairs after ten minutes climb. The staircase opened into a large room. It was devoid of anything but a couch at its far side and a few book stacked upon the highest shelf.

Loki crossed to the shelf, pulling down a dusty volume. I stared at him blankly. "I found it in the library. It's a guide detailing the magic of the Vanir, but I haven't been able to learn anything form it. It's so ambiguous."

"You can't learn magic from a book," I said, pulling a face.

"That's how I learned."

"Then Vanir magic and Asgardian magic must be truly different," I said sitting cross-legged on the floor. I motioned for Loki to sit across from me. He did so with a dubious face.

"You say you wish to learn, what did you call it? Energy burst?" I asked, remembering. We didn't have such set names for things in Vanaheim, they just _were_. It was hard to explain. I surmised that this could end up being more difficult than I'd first thought. Loki seemed to read it in my face.

I closed my eyes thinking hard. Eyes still closed, I began talking. "Close your eyes. You need to find that place in you where your magic resides and summon it to each and every fiber of your being. Don't worry about direction now. Just- let it build up inside until you feel as though you might burst and then-"

I flicked my arm out, fingers splayed. My eyes flew open with it and I watched as one of the windows exploded outward.

"That was truly an awful explanation," Loki said, eyebrows raised. I flicked my fingers at him, knocking him over.

"I never had to learn."

"What do you mean you never had to learn," Loki said, scowling.

"It came naturally to me. It was much harder controlling it." I got a sudden idea. "Get angry."

"Pardon."

"Get really, really angry. I once tore a hole through Freyr's bedchamber wall when he upset me."

"What did he do?" Loki asked, his interest piqued.

"It doesn't matter. Just try it."

Loki stared at me dubiously before closing his eyes. I watched, my brows furrowed. Loki concentrated, his face becoming pinched. I seemed to wait a long time, but just when I thought that nothing was happening, I was hurled back in a flash of blue light. I landed crumpled by the shelves. Loki looked up seemingly as shocked as I was that it worked.

"Points for style," I said getting up. My body ached but I was pleased that my instructions had worked.

"Why did it appear blue?" Loki asked, staring at his hand.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Perhaps the answer's in one of your books."

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**I'm not sure when I will be able to update next. Hopefully Friday, but at latest Sunday. Please review!**


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